


Brother, We're Close To The Bottom of The River

by KingTrashLord



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Do over - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, I'm gonna add tags as I go, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Time Travel, but also pretty gay, but romance is apart of this fic, he wants his family back, he's a real Bear ;), it will hopefully be worth it, papa bear i mean, please stick around, rick is trying his best, theres gonna be some gore/character death, this is gonna get gay, this isn't just about the romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-12 03:41:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10481298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingTrashLord/pseuds/KingTrashLord
Summary: Rick ends up the last of his family left alive. Not wanting to live all alone, he kills himself and finds himself back in his hospital bed when his life first went to Hell. Once he get's proof this is actually real, he's not letting anything stop him from saving his family.----“Baby girl- baby girl I’m so sorry” Rick clutched Judith,his six year old daughter, to his chest. They were trapped - Walkers were closing in in them from all sides. The glass was creaking under the weight of the undead, the groans were a dreadfully familiar lullaby. “I wished it wouldn’t have come to this,” The putrid stench wafted through the truck, like third hand smoke, it clung to everything left living or dead. No amount of washing would remove the smell. “I thought we were safe. We had food, shelter, family… I didn’t expect all of that to have an expiration date.”





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> If you couldn't tell the title is inspired by the songs Brother, and Bottom of the River. I really like both of the songs and they put me in the Walking dead mood.  
> I paid a friend to edit the second chapter for me with a chocolate muffin. I hope they did their job well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end and a start to a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last edited on 8/10/18

“Baby girl - baby girl I’m so sorry” Rick clutched Judith, his six year old daughter to his chest. They were trapped. Walkers drew in on them from all sides. The windows creaked under the weight of the undead, their groans were a dreadfully familiar lullaby. “I wish it didn’t have come to this.”

The putrid stench wafted through the truck, like third-hand smoke, it clung to everything - living or dead. “I thought we were safe. We had food, shelter, family… I didn’t expect all of that to have an expiration date.”

“Daddy?” Judith whimpered, her small hands clung to Rick’s collar “Whas wrong?” Judith had grown up without a civilized society and had the casual Walker nip at her ankles all her life. She didn’t fully comprehend the severity of the situation she and her Daddy were in.

Daryl wasn’t going to leap out of the woods and start taking down Walkers with arrows and blades. He couldn’t - even if he wanted to. The knife to the back of the skull prevented any chance of motor function past death.

Tears clung to Rick’s lashes, adrenaline was pumping through his veins. He had to do this for the both of them. His only wish was that he could have granted the same courtesy to Carl…

It was with trembling hands that Rick lifted his gun. His breath caught in his throat.

“Da?”

“I’m so _so_ sorry Baby girl... My lil’ asskicker...” Rick took a deep breath and leveled the muzzle of his pistol with Judith’s temple, “I love you baby girl. Can you ever forgive me?”

Some semblance of understanding crossed Judith’s face. “I’d never hate you Daddy! I love you!”

Tears slipped down Rick’s face as he cocked the safety back. “I love you too Judy. Please tell Carl I wish I could see him...” He steeled his nerve and took a deep, shaky breath. He knew this would be one of her last moments living in this hell, Rick pulled close Judy and planted one last kiss onto her forehead. “I love you.” The trigger snapped closed.

Blood and brain matter littered the passenger side window. Sharp intakes of breath accompanied the ringing in his ears and the raspy groans that surrounded them.

“I’m so sorry!” Rick wailed, and clutched Judith’s limp body to his person, “Baby girl! Baby girl - NoOO!” His cries fell on hungry ears. The dead outside began to pound more severely onto the windows to gain access to the fresh meat inside the vehicle. Rick ignored the walkers outside and fell into a new wave of grief.

He turned his pistol towards himself and watched how the warm metal glinted in the muted light. “See you soon Shane.” Rick parted his lips and unhinged his jaw enough to fit the beginning of his muzzle into his mouth. He took a slow breath through his nose, the ache in his jaw was arbitrary, but Rick relished this last bit of humanity left within him.

Rick closed his eyes and heard the click of the safety. He didn’t want to hold this out much longer - he had a special place in hell waiting for him. He sent one last withering glare to the monsters shambling outside. ‘Eat shit’

The trigger snapped and all senses were lost.


	2. Re-submerging oneself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick wakes up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last edited on 8/10/18

A sudden wave of senses flooded Rick’s system. He struggled to breathe and brought his hands up toward his face. He tore the breathing tubes out of his nose with hands that couldn’t stop quaking. Everything was overwhelming - his eyes teared up, and his nose was burning from the unusual friction. It, the room, where ever he was, was blinding. 

“This can’t be the afterlife” Rick sat up with a groan. “I can’t be dead and have an I.V. in me, right?” Rick took in his surroundings: barren white walls, a lone dresser pressed against the wall with a window, different monitors that weren’t even turned on by his bed, and an empty I.V. drip stuck into his wrist. What had later caught his attention was a bouquet of dried up flowers that crinkled to the touch. 

“What the...” His left shoulder throbbed - fire licked at his senses dutifully, “This can’t be right...” His hands shook as he did his best to remove the I.V. from his arm. He was already feeling like Hell. He didn’t want to add to it like it did in his memories. 

I.V. and wires hung limply toward the floor, and Rick shuffled his legs to the side. He tried to climb out of bed with only a moment’s hesitation and fell to the floor with the grace of a two-year-old. 

“Way to go, Grimes, you’ve killed how many people and you can’t even stand up on your own - shit - I should not be talking to myself right now.”

Rick did his best to crawl over to a lone standing chair and used that to assist him to his feet. It took self-muffled grunts and groans and a good twenty minutes, but Rick got to his feet and shuffled over to what he hoped to be a bathroom, not a closet.

While Rick was not entirely sure where he was, he had to admit that he was pretty impressed. The stench of decay was very subtle compared to the many places he resided in the past - including the prison and Alexandria. They might have been  _ safe _ but they weren’t exactly the most hygienic. While Alexandria had running water and soap and the people liked to pretend life was still normal. But it was always when the illusion was about to solidify that you would catch a whiff of death that tagged along with the breeze, or groans of exertion. Not from sex or running, but shambling and clawing toward the smell of not-dead-yet. 

Once he found that the door  _ did  _ lead to a bathroom, not a closet, he looked into the unfractured mirror. His mirrored image was a jolt to his system. He looked so much younger than he did the last time he looked at himself. Granted that was a long time ago. But gone was his gray-patched beard and dewy curls hanging by his ears and base of his neck. 

“What the... ” Rick reached out and touched the reflective glass. He expected it to react like water and ripple to distort the unfamiliar sight. A five o’clock shadow graced his features and his hair was neatly cut. Curls lose against his skull, “I...” the mirror remained stagnant. It looked as if only a hard bash would make his image shift. “I look twenty years younger...” Rick ran his hands against his scruff and reveled in the simplicity and mundane. 

After he turned on the sink, he cupped his hands and took his first drink of water since he woke up. As soon as the water caressed his lips, an animalistic hunger enraptured him and he dunked his head into the sink to gain further access to the falling water. 

“God!” Rick moaned, belly full of water and a dull pounding in his temple. He braced himself against the porcelain with shaky arms. He had no idea how long he was out, but his body ached from the simple actions he had just done. 

Rick tottered back into the main room and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“What the Hell am I going to do..? How the in all Hell am I not dead?” He ran his fingers over his hair. Strangely enough, it was only because of the apocalypse that Rick was truly able to understand himself and his needs. He knew he couldn’t go out guns blazing with his poor physical condition and his lack of guns helped to deter that approach. 

Rick tried his best to not agitate his shoulder as he laid his weary body down. “Maybe I can find the others after I get some more rest...” Rick paused after that thought passed his mind. Everyone was dead. From one way or another, his family was gone. 

His mind flashed back to his last moments with his daughter. “Oh God! Judith!” Rick covered his mouth with his hands and fought to keep tears from falling. “How could I do that to my baby girl? I’m seriously all alone now!” A gross sob ripped from Rick’s vocal chords as his throat tightened in remorse. The-last-Grimes-standing curled up onto his side and fell asleep, hoping this was all a delusion.

Deep down he knew it wasn’t.

+++

An unknown amount of time passed before Rick woke once more. His body still felt weary but was more well rested compared to when he first woke up. 

“God damn...” he pushed himself off the bed and hobbled into the bathroom. Rick was forever grateful for the facility having running water. He felt it was time to get moving - figure out what was going on and where he was. He walked into the main room and looked through the lone dresser of room. He thankfully found a clean pair of pants and a T-shirt. 

Rick paused for a moment in shock at how  _ white _ the shirt was. He was so unused to seeing such a stark white - nothing had been this clean and in his possession in years.

“How much bleach did these people hoard in the beginning?” He shrugged off his untied, sweat-drench hospital gown and tugged on the T-shirt. Rick rolled his shoulders and let out a soft groan. He sat on the edge of the bed and slipped the shockingly clean pair of jeans over the baggy boxers he had found with the other clothes. “I wonder if anybody came and checked on me while I was out...” Shoeless and ready to move, Rick limped over to the door and pushed it open. A single gurney was pushed up against the doorway of his room. The hallway lights were flickering and medical supplies were littered across the floor. “What the-” The ramshackle hallway was a shock compared to the cleanly state of his room. “Hell?” the linoleum floor burned his feet with icy heat and trudged down the hall in hopes to find another live human. 

Rick found the main receptionist's desk and began to scavenge for anything he could use to protect himself or tell him where he was. It was fairly difficult with his aching body, but Rick found a large Coach purse left behind by a previous body and began piling whatever he could into the designer bag:  staples (and stapler), matches, sticky notes, pens, a Swiss army knife (went into his jeans pocket) and other random objects were collected. 

It was after he was semi-content with his scavenging of the desk that he really  _ looked _ at the documents left behind. He picked up a file and instantly locked his jaw at what he read. 

_ “‘Harrison Memorial Hospital’ Kings County, Georgia...” _ Rick felt a sudden burst of adrenaline and unintentionally crumpled the edges of the document with his hands. “How the hell did I end up back in Georgia?” A slight hysteria-tinged Rick’s voice, “I was so far up North I don’t even know exactly where we were… I mean - Alexandria, but I never actually had a definite location...”

The was a nagging feeling digging into his gut. This was all too familiar - all too reminiscent of his first moments awake after his months-long coma… Rick left the south wing recovery floor and began his search for answers. Bullet holes and blood adorned the walls and all breath escaped him all his eyes landed on the now-internally-iconic double doors chained with  _ ‘Don’t Open, Dead Inside’  _ scrawled on them. 

Rick  _ knew _ there were walkers inside. He could tell by the lazy knocking against the door and groans of hunger that wafted from inside. Before he actually reached the doors, Rick stopped. His mind raced a mile a minute and his survival instincts were started to kick in. he had no idea how the Hell he got back to his hometown. How he ended up in that damn hospital room, how he looked  _ so _ much younger with barely any grey hairs sticking out against his natural brown. 

He had no idea what was going on, but he knew not to move closer. He smelled too clean - too alive - which reminded Rick why he and his family never owned anything too clean once this all began. You smell too clean and you’re just asking for walkers to take a taste. Instead, Rick decided to leave this God forsaken place. If his fuzzy memory served him well, the stairwell would be free of walkers and safe to go down. 

“C’mon Grimes. Man the fuck up.” He hefted the strap of his bag onto his not-as-badly-hurt shoulder and descended the stairs with his new army knife at the ready to strike anything or anyone who approached him. At the moment there was a theory that meekly stood in the back of his mind, ready for rejection, but he couldn’t toss it out a third story window without actual proof to prove or deny it. 

Thankfully Rick was able to exit the hospital without an encounter with any ‘live’ walkers. But his luck ran out all too soon. Not in the oh-God-walkers type of way, but the Holly-Shit-I-can’t-breathe-it-smells-like-death way instead. Not only did it smell like death, but there were many decomposing bodies wrapped in no-longer white sheets, that were now gaining a gray, damp look to them as they soaked up the bodily fluids the corpses excreted. They were now petrified in the hot Georgian sun. 

To try and dilute the smell a tad, Rick lifted the hem of his collar over his nose and wiped his watery eyes. Despite the fact that he was constantly surrounded by the noxic stench of the undead, the smell remained unpleasant and just as jarring as the first time he smelt death. 

He had just recently graduated from the academy, both Shane and he did, and it was one of his first on duty calls. A neighbor called in distress over the fact that they haven't seen their neighbor leave her house in a week and she usually held a very rigid schedule. The Neighbor was a stay at home parent and thus saw the day-to-day outings of their neighbor across the street. Lauren - Luara - something like that lived on her own, had a lot of money and owned exotic pets. By the time Rick got there with his supporting officers, you could smell decay and feces before you even entered the house. 

His first time seeing a dead body, not on T.V. was a woman in torn sleeping attire and her stomach ripped open by a hungry Komodo dragon and python. Her body was in poor condition having been feasted upon more than once and her python trying to swallow her lower body. Actually able to eat her left foot, but a myriad of puncture wounds trailed up her legs. 

Rick fought the bile rising in his throat and tried his best to get away from the corpses within a reasonable timeframe. He took a minute to climb the gradual incline. But when he was on fairly level ground he knew where he had to go. 

Home. 


	3. Fallacy of The Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has not been beta-read yet. I am in fact looking for a beta reader at the moment, if anyone is interested, please message me or leave a comment letting me know.  
> Also if you could please leave comments that would be great. I don't mean to beg but when I get comments it keeps me motivated to write.
> 
> Last Edited on 8/13/18

It was so odd to walk down the once familiar streets of his hometown without the graffiti left by Morgan. After Duane’s death, and his mental break he had left the walls painted with warnings for people to leave.

Despite the fact he walked down the road, RIck knew he needed evidence of this being real or a dream. He couldn’t let this sit and let the unknown drive him insane. He hiked the Coach bag higher on his shoulder and continued his trek to his once home. 

He was thankful for the weather deciding not to be over one-hundred degrees while he had to walk on scalding blacktop with bare feet - and for the fact that he found his utility knife at the hospital. It came in all too handy when it came time for him to pick off some disembodied walkers. Ones that were just waiting for a perfectly timed ankle to be within their mouth’s reach. 

“Ok Grimes, you need to see if Morgan and Duane are at the Johnson's’ house...” Rick continued down the street until he saw his old neighborhood. “You can do this.” Rick tried to remain as quiet as possible, but it was fairly difficult with the subtle clinks that came from his bag. He just knew, that if this was really happening. If what he thought was happening actually was - he had some shit to take care of. 

He saw the Johnson’s’ windows covered with towels and old sheets to block out anything that was going on inside. As he neared the walkway up to the front door, Rick set his bag down by the mailbox and flipped his knife open. If he was wrong, and there were walkers in there… Well - he’d be fine but the Johnson’s would need to do some heavy cleaning. 

“Knock knock” Rick rapped his knuckles against the front door, He waited to hear a shuffle of movement and either voices or groans. After a moment of silence, Rick tried the door handle and found it to be locked. “Is anyone in there?” He tried knocking once more. A beat passed before he could hear floorboards creak under a (hopefully) living person’s weight. 

“Who’s there?” A voice came from the other side of the door. They were straight to the point. 

“You don’t know me, But I’m Rick Grimes. I - I just woke up in Harrison County hospital. I think I was in a coma cause the last thing I remember is getting shot.”

“How the Hell did you get shot?”

“I’m a - I was a sheriff here. I’m looking for my wife and kid.” That wasn’t necessarily true at the moment. Instead Rick’s mind reeled as he recognized the voice that came from inside the house. It was Morgan - his friend and someone who became a part of his family after he properly mourned Duane and his wife. 

The was a brief silence before Morgan spoke again. 

“So why did you stop here? If you just woke up from a coma, how did you know this place wasn’t empty?” 

Rick’s voice caught - he didn’t fully think this through. His first thought after waking up was to see if he was right - if he really was in the past. Hearing Morgan interrogate him from his neighbor’s house was proof. Morgan had told him that he and Duane were originally from Kentucky. Thankfully, Rick has had many years learning to improvise and spun up a story on the spot.

“I already said I was a cop before all this happened didn’t I? This place had minute signs of being lived in, and I didn’t think my neighbors nor my wife and child would be in here, but I need all the help I can get...”

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Rick Grimes. My house is just across the way, I can go and look from my badge if you want proof.”

Rick could practically hear the gears turn in Morgan’s mind. A minute passed before Rick heard a soft, young voice. 

“Papa?” It was undoubtedly Duane, “W’as goin’ on?” 

“Nothin’ Duane, go back to bed.” 

“Is there s’mone at the door?”

“Yes. Let your pa take care of this ok?”

“They're not dead are they?”

“... No. And that’s what has me worried...”

“Excuse me?” Rick rapped softly against the door to gain Morgan’s attention once more, “Would you like to see my badge?”

“Yeah.” Morgan’s voice lost the softness that was directed towards his son. “I’m not letting you see me or my son before you give me some proof to believe anything you’re saying.”

“Wise choice” Rick complemented. Even now he could see pieces of the survivor he once knew. “I’m going to find my badge and pick up stuff from my house.”

“Did you stop here before you looked at your own house?” Morgan’s voice held evident confusion. 

“No,” Rick explained how he searched his house, and upon finding none of his family, decided it would be best to find some other living human being before deciding what to do.

“You go and get that badge now ya hear? Otherwise I'm not letting in this house.”

“Alright then.” Rick nodded and began to walk away from the doorway with his arms held high in a non threatening manner. What he didn't see was a walker slowly skulking up behind him.

It's teeth were bare with no lips to protect the exposed bone and half it’s scalp was drooping from its head. It let out a moan before tripping over a rogue tire left in the street.

Rick turned around at the sound of the walker hitting the ground and instantly pulled out his Swiss Army Knife. He stalked forward and hauled the once-man onto his knees and stabbed him in the forehead. 

“Bastard” Rick breathed, and continued his trek across the street to his house. He decided that while he was searching for his badge - God knows where Lori put it - he would pack as much as he could for everyone at the quarry. 

He pulled the screen door open and walked inside. His first go around, he didn't do a thorough search of his home, he was more worried about Lori and Carl.

“God… What am I going to do about Lori?” He knew Lori cheated on him with Shane, though looking back he's not really sure who started the affair. He could see now that Lori was not likely to adapt to living on the road and try to keep things as ‘normal’ as possible like she did last time. “You’now what? I'm not gonna let some woman bring me down and tear Shane apart again.”

Rick could barely recognize his house - compared to his life before his ‘redo’ or whatever the fuck this was, He felt so unsafe and unhomely. The traditional homestyle made Rick uncomfortable with the lack of protection and all openings for attack from biters and humans alike.

Rick pulled out his and Lori’s old suitcases from the closet and started filling them with their clothes and Carl’s. The suitcases were fairly large and Rick decoded to rid the bathroom for toiletries: toilet paper, tampons, pads, soap, towels, toothpaste, and deodorant. He knew that he wanted to raid a CVS or RITE-AID for more toiletries.

He can vividly recall all the pain and bloodshed the women had to go through without any help the first time around. He didn’t want them to go through all that again.

“Damn it Lori! Where did you put my badge?” Rick shuffled through her bedside table drawers and stopped as he noticed a manilla folder pressed up against the bottom of the drawer. He pulled the folder out sat on the edge of the bed and began to flip through the papers. It was soon after Rick’s throat closed up as he read the second pages heading. “Petition for Divorce?” Rick stared blankly at the paper. “Lori wanted to file for a divorce?” He read the filled out information and unintentionally clenched his teeth as he saw Lori’s signature and the date she signed.

Her side of the divorce papers were filled out before he even got shot apparently, and she had  _ never told him _ . Rick shuffled through the other papers until he found a blank form for him to fill out. He found a spare pen left in Lori’s drawer and used that to fill out his end of the divorce. While he bullshited the date, the sentimate behind his signature was true. He no longer wanted to be in any form of intimate relationship with Lori. 

“I hope you’re happy Lori.” Rick pocketed the papers and folder in his Coach bag. That way they would be right with him when he sees her next. All Rick could think of at the moment was what he was going to do first when he got to the quarry. 

Let Lori go, let her be with Shane or whoever the fuck she wanted to be with, and  _ not let her dictate his son’s life. _


	4. Minute Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has not been beta'd by anyone. Just myself and I'm shit at revising my own work. I hope you and enjoy and let me know what you think :)
> 
> Last Edited 8/13/18

Chapter 3 

 

Minute Changes

Rick finally found his badge after a good thirty minutes of searching and packed up goods for the quarry. He knew that he wanted to avoid Atlanta straight out, but he also knew that Glenn, Andrea, and others were likely going to get trapped in a goodwill of sorts. He sighed and pulled the suitcases to the front door. He knew that he would have to hotwire one of his neighbor’s cars and siphon gas so he could actually  _ get _ to the quarry without a horse and Morgan and Duane in tow.

Rick walked across the street, taking out two walkers with his knife in one hand and his badge in the other. 

“Hey,” He knocked on Morgan’s door and held out the badge to the peephole. “Got my badge for you.” He heard Morgan near the door

“That really your badge?”

“Yeah, says right here ‘Sheriff Rick Grimes’.”

Morgan paused and thought about his options. He wasn’t sure about this man. He claimed to be a sheriff and even provided proof, but that didn’t make him  _ a good person _ .

“If I let you in, what are you going to do? What are your plans?”

Rick rubbed what little scruff he had and sighed, “I’m not entirely sure to be honest… I just - I need to see another live human being right now…”

It hadn’t really hit yet that Morgan was alive once more. Much like what happened with Lori at the prison, he would hear his comrades and see their silhouettes watching him from a distance.

“I just - I want to help somehow - I  _ need _ to find my family.” 

Morgan sighed and looked behind him to where Duane watched their interactions from the kitchen doorway.

“Fine. But if you try  _ anything _ I won’t hesitate to put you down.”

Rick nodded in approval “Good.”

Morgan took a deep breath and unlocked the door. He slowly opened it and caught his first proper look at Grimes. The man was of average height with curly hair cut close to his skull. He wore a plain white T-shirt which Morgan noticed a slight bulge close to Rick’s shoulder and instantly pulled out his gun. 

“What’s up with that bulge huh?”

Rick threw his hands up in the most non-threatening way possible. He flinched in pain at the tinge in his left shoulder. “I told you sir. I got shot on duty. I haven’t been bit or scratched if that’s what you're worried about.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes. “Show me”

Rick nodded “Ok, but can I do it inside?”

“No.” Morgan leveled his gun with Rick’s face. 

The sheriff sighed, but nonetheless did as he was told. Before he even began to lift his shirt, he checked his surroundings for biters. With a huff, Rick tugged his shirt up and worked it over his shoulders. The bandages were tinged red at certain spots, mainly on Rick’s back where his wound originated.

“Take off the bandages.” That was not optional if Rick didn’t want to get shot again. 

He tugged at the bandages and exposed his wound to fresh air for the first time since waking up in the past.

“This proof enough for you?” Rick grunted and turned to show Morgan his stitched up bullet wound. Rick was shaking ever so slightly, not only from pain but from trying to keep his emotions in check. He could barely contain himself after seeing Morgan  _ alive. _

“Yeah, it is. Come inside please. I just wanted to be thorough.”

“I understand” Rick’s voice cracked, “Could you help me re bandage my wound?”

“Of course”

Duane slowly crept put from the kitchen to get a closer look at the gore.

“Son, keep your distance” Rick held out a hand to try and keep Duane at bay. “Don’t try to see any more blood than you need to.”

Duane frowned but stayed in place.

“Thank you” Morgan muttered, “He hasn’t fully come to realize how serious the situation has become.”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t want my son needlessly shown blood and guts.”

After Rick got bandaged once more; Morgan, Rick and Duane all sat down in the living room and ate a cold can of soup a piece.

“So what are your plans Rick?”

“I’m hoping for your name first” Rick gave a small smile

Morgan stopped his spoon halfway and rubbed the back of his neck after he put the spoon back in the tin. “Sorry...” Morgan patted Duane’s shoulder. “My name’s Morgan and this is my son, Duane Jones. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Rick Grimes, nice to make yours.” He held out his hand for Morgan to shake. “And originally I wanted to find my wife and son, but now… I’m more interested in just finding carl.”

“What happened?” Morgan could hear the resentment leak from Rick’s voice from the mention of his wife. 

Rick ran his hands over his face and fished out the folder from his bag. “Found these during my search for my badge.”

“What?” Morgan reached out to take a hold of the folder and flipped through it. He frowned at the bolded ‘Divorce’ at the top of the page. “She - you said you were in a coma before all this shit went down, right?”

“Yeah...” Rick rubbed his eyes and sighed. “From what I can tell, she filed for it even before I fell into my coma but never bothered to mention it.”

“Damn...” Morgan looked towards the blocked out windows with only thoughts about his wife. “What’re you gonna do if you see her again?”

“Let her go. I already filled out the other half of the paperwork. I don’t really give a damn about her right now. I’m mainly concerned with my boy Carl.”

Morgan sympathized with Rick and silently hoped his wife got just deserts. How did she think springing a divorce petition in Rick’s face would go? And instead of dwelling on the depressing topic, Morgan answered as many of Rick’s questions as he could and find out more from the man. Despite the fact he let him into his home, Morgan didn’t fully trust Rick.

They continued to talk for hours and agreed to raid the police station for guns and ammo then see what they could snag from the surrounding buildings. Despite the fact Rick was in a coma when all Hell broke loose, he seemed to have strong survival and self preservation instincts. 

“Tell me, were you one of those doomsday preachers?” Morgan’s question came out of the blue and startled Rick a bit. 

“What - no, why do you ask?” 

“You just… Seem to have everything figured out despite the fact you woke from a coma not even a week ago.”

Rick hesitated. He  _ knew _ he couldn’t tell Morgan - that he shouldn’t. No matter how tempting the idea was. It was just so nice to talk with an actual adult for once. Lately he has only had been the dead for company and his baby girl - ‘Oh God Judith.’ Rick cupped his head in his hands ‘what if Lori never gives birth to her? What if something happens to Judy when or even if she’s born?’ Rick’s breath began to pick up as he thought back into his last moments with her. It was insane… When she first entered his life he barely acknowledged her. His mind was entrapped by Lori’s ghost. In the end he didn’t love anyone more than Judith - anyone other than Carl that is. 

Rick was thrown out of his thoughts by a pat on the shoulder and a concerned “Rick?” Morgan waved a hand in front of his face. “You were out of there for a minute. Why don’t you get some rest? Duane’s been asleep for a good couple hours already and we have shit to do tomorrow.”

“Right... Where should I sleep?”

“My spot. I’ll sleep with Duane. -”

“You don’t have to give up your stuff for me.”

Morgan shook his head “I insist” 

Rick frowned, but complied and crawled onto Morgan’s spot and tried to fall asleep.

+++

Morgan, Rick and Duane woke up at sunrise and prepared to get more weapons.

“What do you plan to do once you get all these guns?”

“I was hoping I could convince you both to join me and head toward Atlanta.”

“A’lanta?” Duane asked, shovel firmly grasped in his hands “Why you wanna go der?”

Rick crouched and placed a hand on Duane’s shoulders. 

“I got a son out there, your Daddy told me that Atlanta was supposedly a safe haven, so I think he and my wife would have gone there.”

“But what if they’re dead?”

The question struck Rick and the smile he gave the boy wavered.

“Then I would stick with you and your Daddy and try to keep the both of you safe.”

Morgan watched the two’s interaction and saw Duane start to warm up to Rick. The man was a good father, he could tell that from the way he spoke about his boy and how patient he was with Duane. The two continued to talk for a couple minutes as Rick made sure his knife was in reach and had a ‘new’ pair of shoes.

“You both ready?”

“Yeah, we’re ready.” They both nodded and set out the front door. 

“Did you bring your car with you all the way up here?” Rick asked as he took the lead toward the police station. 

“Yeah, we road up in an old pickup truck, but it ran out of gas a block or two away from the house.” 

“Why’d you walk all that way here?”

“It died where there were no houses. We had nowhere to camp and I sure as Hell wasn’t going to let my son have even a slight chance of getting attacked while I was asleep.”

Duane whined and pulled on his Dad’s sleeve “Da, I can take care of myself!”

“I know that son,” Morgan patted his son’s head “That doesn’t stop me from worrying though.”

As Rick listened to Morgan and Duane talk, he thought back to Carl : how the last time he saw his boy, he was down one eye and a forearm.

‘I will not let that happen again’

Rick thought, his fist clenched around the Swiss Army handle.

Morgan looked over at Rick and asked, “So Rick, if you do happen to convince us to join you, what would we do after we got to Atlanta?”

“Hopefully find another group and build up our members.”

Thankfully for Rick, the three of them wound at the police station and began for weapons and ammo.

“Lets pile whatever we find into these duffle bags and sort through them back at the house. Then we can figure out what you two are doing in regards to joining me or sticking around here.”

After coming back into the Johnson’s the three of them sorted through the guns and ammo to have some sense of organization. Rick pulled Morgan off to the side, out of reach and sight of Duane.

“So what do you think you’re gonna do?”

Morgan shook his head and rubbed his scruff. “As much as I’d love for Duane and I to join you, we can’t leave. Not now.”

“And why is that?” Rick already knew, but he needed to hear it from Morgan. He wasn’t going to leave the man and his son behind again. If he had to - which he likely would - he would put Jenny down for them. 

“I - my wife, Jenny… She got bit. She’s one of the, now… One of those monsters.”

“Have you tried to put her down?”

Morgan was shocked by the question “She’s my wife! -”

“She  _ was _ your wife. She’s dead now! Now you need to focus on keeping you and your son alive!” Rick’s breath was slightly ragged.

He… All the death… All the family lost because of those walker fucks and abhorrent human beings.

“Ya gotta focus on living. If you don’t want Jenny to suffer, you go and put a bullet in her brain before she infects someone else and wastes away.”

“I can’t do that!” Morgan snapped, “I can’t just put her down like a bitch!”

Rick took a deep breath and looked Morgan dead in the eyes. 

“Then I’ll do it for you.”

“What?” Morgan reached out a took ahold of Rick’s right shoulder. “I can’t let you do  _ my _ job. I need to do it -”

“You just said you can’t put her out of her misery!” Morgan tried to cut Rick off, but he continued, “I  _ am not _ leaving you and Duane to die because of a ghost!”

There was a beat of silence between the two men.

“Why do you care so much?” Morgan was shaken by the intensity of the other man. “You just met us… Why do you give a damn about what happens to us?”

‘I can’t lose my family again.’

Rick sighed and looked Morgan in the eyes once more. “I’m not losing more people when I can do something about it.”

Morgan remained silent for a moment before nodding, “Alright.”


End file.
